


Undercover

by Nary



Category: Perseity
Genre: Age Difference, Aphrodisiacs, Body Modification, Case Fic, Character of Color, Control Issues, Drugged Sex, Genderqueer Character, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Masturbation, Orgasm, Other, Police, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Science Fiction, Sex Club, Sexual Fantasy, The Future Has Better Drugs, Undercover, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quaquin didn't care for sex clubs as a rule, but at least Satyr's was among the classiest of the station's various fornicatory establishments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

The Qonakhtim arms dealer ( _suspected_ arms dealer, Quaquin mentally, if dubiously, amended) wasn't stupid enough to go wandering around the station - he was staying on his ship, where Perseity's laws couldn't touch him without a warrant. But he was apparently willing to let his daughter out for a night on the station. Maybe she was just a restless teenager who'd pitch a tantrum if she didn't get a bit of fun while they were docked. Or maybe, just maybe, there was the possibility that the girl was making a contact with someone, and if that happened, it was Quaquin's business to know about it.

The girl didn't know him, so he didn't go to too much effort with his disguise. Male, hair a few shades darker, no moustache, maybe 70-something, wearing a russet jacket and some slouchy sand-coloured trousers that wouldn't stand out in a crowd of tourists and club-goers, most of whom would be dressed like they'd robbed a hooker while escaping from a mental institution. It would do for now, anyway - he could always change later if he had to.

He'd been right about her fashion sense. The kid was wearing a dress (violet, to match her hair) that barely reached her thighs, and elbow-length yellow fingerless gloves covered with an eye-blistering holopattern. Her name was Shiifra Odoil, and to Quaquin's jaded eyes she looked way too young to be out on her own, and, underneath from the flashy clothes, not much to stare at, with teeth a bit too big for her mouth and splotchy freckles across her rounded cheeks. And she moved like a hobbled giraffe, but whether that was due to her high heels or the station's grav, he wasn't sure. Still, he supposed that some guys wouldn't mind showing her a good time...

Oh, wait. She wasn't on her own, though she might not have known it. A plainclothes man left the ship a few moments later, trailing the girl - a bodyguard, most likely. Quaquin hoped this new development wouldn't cause any problems. He double-checked that his eyecam was switched on, and followed them at a safe distance.

The girl made a beeline for Satyr's Delite. Maybe he'd been right and she was just sick of being cooped up on a ship. Quaquin didn't care for sex clubs as a rule, but at least Satyr's was among the classiest of the station's various fornicatory establishments. He held his fib (bearing the data for one of his many fake IDs) out to the scanner to pay the cover, and made a mental note to charge it to AEGIS later.

Inside, the club was about the way it always was - packed with people, mainly tourists and the irredeemably horny, and earsplittingly loud. If it was more crowded than usual, it was probably due to the floor show, which featured Auia-on-human action, something you usually didn't see outside specialty vids.

The Odoil girl took a seat at the bar, eyes wide and taking in everything. The bodyguard, if that was what he was, stood against the wall on the other side of the room, looking even less thrilled to be there than Quaquin was. Quaquin was just deciding where best to place himself when someone tapped on his shoulder.

"Vert, what are you doing here?" It was Vigo. Of course it was fucking Vigo, smiling like he'd just got laid. He probably had. "Did you come to see my show?"

"A) I'm not your 'vert, and B) piss off," said Quaquin not turning all the way around to look at him until he thought through the implications of that last statement. " _Your_ show?"

"Well, not _mine_ exactly, I'm not performing or anything. But I did set this one up - the Auia's a friend of mine, I got him into the adult entertainment gigs... He's got the most amazing snout, long and totally prehensile..."

"I don't want to hear about it, Vigo, I'm busy right now."

"Oh, splash. Are you undercover?" Vigo asked over the pounding music, not taking the subtle hint.

"Yes," said Quaquin through gritted teeth. "And you aren't helping."

"I _could_ help," Vigo said, bouncing just a little with excitement. "You'll look less conspicuous if you're here with me."

"Somehow I very much doubt that," Quaquin replied, eyeing Vigo's half-naked body. His gaze was irresistibly drawn to a shimmering green and gold codpiece of remarkable size.

"This?" Vigo said, pointing to the groinal eyesore with a mischievous grin. "Come on, that's nothing. Well, it's not _nothing_ , but..."

"Vigo! Go. Away."

"Aw, don't be like that, Robin. Lash, let me buy you a drink, at least."

"Not while I'm on duty. And don't call me that."

"Pharms? I have some beat, some supernova, really good stuff..." He proffered a little pill box, which Quaquin waved away impatiently.

"Seriously? You think I can do surveillance work while I'm frooked out of my mind?"

"You're so annoyingly professional," Vigo said, pouting just a little as he popped one of the pills - Quaquin didn't see which - into his mouth. Even though Quaquin ignored him, he continued blithely. "I like that shade on you. Brings out your eyes. Who're you spying on?" He craned his neck, looked around curiously until Quaquin grabbed his arm.

"Stop staring, would you? I don't want to have you arrested, but I will if I have to. I'm pretty sure just being here is a parole violation for you."

"I'm not even allowed sex clubs now? Fascist."

"Damn it, Qvist. Go find someone else to rub up against instead of me. Preferably someone non-diseased," he added as an afterthought.

"See, you _do_ care," Vigo said with an irritatingly cheerful smile, and grabbed Quaquin's ass affectionately. "The pharms I took will kick in after about twenty, thirty minutes - we could grab a private room before then, and you could make me go nova... You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Unwilling to admit that yes, he very much would, Quaquin took Vigo's wrist and firmly removed his hand from his ass. "I realize that you don't fully understand the concept of 'work', but some of us have jobs to do." He turned his attention back to the girl, who fortunately was still at the bar. Vigo followed his gaze.

"Is that her? Really? She looks pretty harmless."

"She might be. Then again, she might not."

Vigo got a frighteningly pensive look on his face. "I could go talk to her," he said after few seconds of thinking. "Flirty, you know, just 'get to know you' stuff..."

Quaquin started to say no, his gut reaction to most of Vigo's insane suggestions, but then he considered it for a moment and realized the plan had certain... advantages. "All right," he told him. "Go talk to her. If she brushes you off, then maybe she's here for some reason other than enjoying the local colour."

Vigo's eyes were bright. "Splash. Will you make me an honourary field agent?"

"Damn it, Vigo, just do it, will you? Maybe find out how long she's here for, too."

"Can do, boss," Vigo replied with a jaunty salute.

"Don't call me that."

"Aye aye, captain," said Vigo cheekily, and sauntered off faux-casually toward the girl. Quaquin slid into a booth that had finally opened up nearby, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake.

Vigo slid in beside Shiifra at the bar, ordering a drink. Quaquin could see him checking her out. He made it look natural, just a glance at first, then looking a little longer, then smiling when their eyes happened to meet... He was pretty good, Quaquin had to admit. They struck up a conversation, but he had no idea what they were saying. The girl laughed, though, and that was probably a good sign. Vigo's drink arrived, but there were no seats next to her, so he stood, casually leaning against the bar and gesturing extravagantly with his free hand. A somewhat alarming number of those gestures seemed to be in Quaquin's direction, and he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as Shiifra got up from her stool and took Vigo's arm as he began leading her over to the booth. Quaquin didn't believe in telepathy, but he tried anyway, desperately sending mental "GO AWAY" signals to the couple. As expected, it failed miserably, and after finding their way through the crowd, they were there before him.

"Hey Rob, this is my new friend Shiifra. Shiifra, meet my boyfriend." He had the most insufferable smirk on his face as he said the word.

Quaquin suppressed a death glare and smiled tightly at the girl. "Nice to meet you."

She wrinkled her freckled nose. "He's kind of byz for a guy like you, isn't he?"

Vigo laughed. "Oh, there's something to be said for experience. Come on, have a seat with us."

She looked reluctant, but was swayed when Vigo pulled out his portable pharmacy once again and offered it to her. "What's this one?" she asked, pointing to a purple tablet.

"Khopra," he replied. When she looked blank, he continued. "It's, uh, more a guy thing. Here, try this instead." He offered her a green capsule, which Quaquin thought was likely a jiunggar derivative. It probably wasn't as strong as the real thing, but still, the girl would be tripping hard pretty soon, and ready to fuck anything that moved. Quaquin was pretty sure that would be a Bad Thing, and, grudgingly, decided to intervene.

"Wait, I thought you were saving that one for me," he said, feigning petulance.

"Oh, sorry," said Vigo to the girl, managing to sound genuinely regretful. "It's my last one of those, and I _did_ promise it to him... But here, this one's fun too." He handed Quaquin the green pill and offered her a pale yellow one instead. He hoped it was beat, that was reasonably harmless - she'd get hyper and want to dance, but that was about the worse of it. She popped the pill without a second thought, and Quaquin wondered if her father had never warned her about taking gifts from strangers, or if he had, but she'd just ignored him.

"Come on, Rob," Vigo told him sweetly, "take your medicine." Quaquin had been about to palm the pill, but with both Vigo and the girl watching him, he couldn't risk it. Glowering at Vigo, he put the jiunggar extract under his tongue. He tried to keep from swallowing it, but the damn thing dissolved almost immediately into a bitter-tasting powder, so that there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd just have to keep himself under control, that was all. He was reasonably sure he could handle it.

Vigo made smalltalk with the girl, and Quaquin tried to listen while simultaneously trying to remember how long jiunggar took to take effect. He hadn't had it in at least thirty or forty years, and the memory was hazy at best. Shiifra was saying something about only having a single night on the station before she left, and Vigo was sympathizing and saying something about making it a memorable one, then, and dammit, that powdered jiunggar must have been some fast-acting shit, because he was already starting to sweat a little and he felt like his nipples might poke through his shirt. He tugged his jacket a little closer, just in case he wasn't imagining that. Hints of colour sparkled at the edge of his peripheral vision, but no full-on hallucinations yet, thankfully.

Vigo had his arm around Shiifra, his mouth close to her ear so he could speak without shouting over the music. She was laughing, her pale, freckled face flushing pink from whatever filthy things he was saying. Quaquin sort of wished he could hear Vigo's words - just for surveillance purposes, of course. Maybe the camera would be able to pick them up, and he could rewatch it later... The girl slid onto his lap, slinging one of those long legs over to straddle his hips. Just over the edge of the table, he could see one of Vigo's hands creeping up under her minidress, exposing half of her skinny white ass to his view. She still wasn't to his taste, too young and too thin by far, but somehow he couldn't look away.

"Come on," she was saying to Vigo, tugging on his arm, "let's go dance!" So the pharms were hitting her too. Vigo stood obligingly, lifting her with ease before letting her slide down the length of his body. Her dress bunched up as she did so, and she tugged it down hastily, but not before Quaquin and half the club had gotten a nice look at the bright pink thong she was wearing.

Vigo smirked and led her out to dance, though the club was so packed that really it was mostly just rubbing up against each other in time to the pulsing music. She obviously didn't mind, and Vigo seemed pretty into it too. He bent down to kiss her, and Quaquin felt an unfamiliar sensation building - a strange, unaccountable jealousy over this stupid, scrawny kid who was pawing at his Vigo. _His_ Vigo, now there was an oxymoron. What the fuck was he thinking? The pharms must have been messing with his head. The knowledge didn't stop him from wanting to march straight over there and pull the little bitch off his man, though. He settled for frowning instead.

Then, over her shoulder, Vigo shot him a glance and winked at him, and suddenly he felt much better. This girl was nobody important, and Vigo was just playing with her. It didn't mean anything. He could even almost - _almost_ \- envision the three of them going back to one of the club's private rooms together, bending the girl over a table... He wouldn't want her to touch him, of course, or even see him too much, nothing that would require explanations, but he might finger her while she was choking to swallow Vigo's massive cock... She'd probably like that, and then he could watch Vigo's face while she sucked him off, yeah, that would be good... He wondered when Vigo's supernova was due to kick in, and whether it might happen right there on the dancefloor. That would be a sight to see... Without really thinking about it, he was rubbing himself under the table, just over the pants, but it was still getting him pretty damn hot...

Wait, what the hell was he thinking? 'Nobody important?' She was a potential suspect in the interplanetary arms trade, this was supposed to be a surveillance mission, and here he was imagining bending her over and fingering her while she sucked Vigo's cock, and practically creaming himself in public over the thought. Fucking Qvist! He'd done this on purpose, somehow. Quaquin was absolutely sure of it, and the thought made him livid, so angry he wanted to walk over there and punch him right in his smug smile...

Wait, were mood swings a side-effect of jiunggar? He tried to remember, but he didn't think so - after all, Tengrists used it in their rituals, and they were some of the most laid-back verts you could imagine. So what the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe Vigo had cut the shit with something stronger. That must be it. In fact, it couldn't be anything else, as far as he was concerned.

"Anyone sitting here?" asked a hopeful Tung guy accompanied by a leggy blonde with her face full of piercings.

"Yes," Quaquin snapped irritably, and they backed away to find someone more companionable to share a booth with.

He turned his attention back to the dancers. Vigo had the girl's skirt bunched up in his fist now, and his other hand was busy doing something Quaquin couldn't quite see through the crush of half-naked bodies, but it was making her blush even more furiously than before. But in his current state of distraction, he'd lost track of where the bodyguard had gotten to. Swearing under his breath, he stood up to look around, then sat back down hastily, because the current engorged state of his trousers wasn't something he wanted everyone staring at just now. Where the hell had the bastard gone?

He got his answer a moment later when someone grabbed Vigo by the shoulder and turned him around violently. The crowd instinctively pulled back to make room for the fight, and Shiifra gave a little scream. "Jarleth, what are you doing?!"

"Stay away from her," the bodyguard snarled at Vigo, who had frozen in place, looking surprised.

Quaquin found himself pushing through the mass of bodies to get to them. The club's bouncers would no doubt be there soon too - apart from the fucking, Koi kept the place reasonably civilized - but Quaquin fully intended to get there first. Time seemed to slow as he moved across the room, and he couldn't tell if it was due to the adrenaline or the pharms in his system.

"We were just dancing!" Shiifra protested, even as she readjusted her dress to cover most of the important bits.

"Dancing, sure," the guy snapped back, and he sounded a little too personally-involved to be just a bodyguard.

As Quaquin stepped up behind him, he saw what the guy held in his hand and knew why Vigo looked so stunned. It was a gun, palm-sized and made of some kind of epoxoid blend - potentially lethal, but most scanners wouldn't be able to tell it from a teacup. Contraband on any world in the Sphere, and currently pressed against Vigo's chest. Before he could think too hard about it, Quaquin grabbed the man's wrist and jerked it upwards, hard. There were screams from the crowd as the gun went off into the air, but no one sounded like they'd been hit, and Quaquin was pretty sure the thing only held one shot - they had an annoying tendency to melt when fired. At least, the ones he'd seen previously did, and he hoped this one was no exception. The man struggled, but Quaquin kept on twisting his wrist until it gave a hugely satisfying snap, and then the fight pretty much went out of him. Just as club security ran up - good timing.

"Take them both outside and hold them until AEGIS gets here," he gasped to the bouncers, only a little winded from his exertions. Once they'd gathered up the remains of the gun, the whimpering idiot who'd fired it, and the girl, who'd started crying, Quaquin pulled out his fib and tapped the code that would bring backup to his current location. They'd be there in less than five minutes, and the situation would finally be out of his hands.

He turned to glance at Vigo, who looked unharmed, though he too was out-of-breath and a bit red in the face. "What's your problem?" Quaquin snapped. "It's not like you did any fighting."

"Not that," Vigo gasped, sweat beading on his forehead. "…nova…"

"Oh. Oh, shit." For a minute, he considered leaving Vigo to his fate, but he couldn't bring himself to be quite that cruel to someone who'd just risked death for him. "Come on, then," he said, taking Vigo's hand and pulling him back to their booth. Fortunately in the commotion, no one had stolen their vacant seat.

Vigo pawed at him hungrily as they tumbled into the booth together. At the touch of a button, the table slid back easily into the wall, as seamless as if it had never been there. Quaquin was grateful that the removal of the table also automatically precipitated the drawing of a filmy curtain around the booth as well - semi-translucent, but obscuring enough to preserve a bit of dignity, at least.

Vigo moaned as Quaquin worked his cock free of its constraints. It was hot to the touch and rock-hard, but he hadn't had time to work it up to its fully-enhanced size. Quaquin found he didn't actually care about that as he wrapped his hand around its fairly average girth and watched Vigo's eyes roll back in his head. He could tell it wouldn't be long now...

Despite his state of frantic arousal, Vigo still managed to be his usual combination of endearing and annoying. "You know," he murmured between gasps, "you just saved my life." He slid one hand down the front of Quaquin's trousers, fondling his tendrils in a hugely distracting way.

"I didn't... oh, fuck... don't go all mushy on me, Qvist." Quaquin stroked faster, hoping to pre-empt any further awkward conversation.

"My hero," Vigo whispered against his ear, just as he started to come. The first explosive burst spattered on the back of the seat across from them, well over a metre away, and would have gone further if there hadn't been something to stop it. The next few were nearly as far, but soon it diminished to an occasional trickle. He didn't stop coming, though, just ran out of juice. The nova would probably keep him going for a good ten or fifteen minutes, at minimum - it wasn't as effective on men as it was on women, but it was still pretty impressive. Each time it seemed like it might be over, the touch of a finger or tongue would start him off again, leaving him shuddering and gasping for air. His hands clutched desperately at the edge of the seat, at Quaquin, at whatever he could reach to hang on to during the waves that kept washing over him.

Quaquin watched avidly, rubbing himself at the same time, feeling each engorged, seeping nub throb like a tiny cock beneath his fingers. He felt deeply grounded, connected to his body, even affectionate for its idiosyncracies, in a way that he usually didn't during sex. The room seemed to have gone quiet, so that all he could hear was his breath and Vigo's, the sounds of their need. Everything felt more _present_ , every sensation magnified almost beyond bearing. His orgasm, when it came, was like a cloudburst over the plains - he'd seen it coming from a long way off but it still surprised him with its sudden intensity.

They finished at close to the same time, drawing apart and leaning back on the seats to catch their breath. "I desperately need a drink," was the first coherent thing Vigo managed to say.

Quaquin nodded, rearranging his clothing and drawing back the curtain to see if he could flag down a server. To his surprise, standing outside the booth and looking very uncomfortable, were two of his field agents. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barked, startled.

"Um... we got a summons to come here... we double-checked the location, we thought it must be a glitch, but..." stammered the young woman, clutching her fib like a shield. "We didn't want to, uh, interrupt...'

"Idiots! They're waiting for you outside with two perps, well, one perp and one suspect..." He got an unpleasant sinking feeling. "They weren't there, were they."

"We didn't see anything," said the agents together.

"Shit. Okay, I'll come deal with this. Just... give me a second, pish?" He pulled his head back into the booth, where Vigo was trying not to laugh. "Just don't," he warned him, as he further straightened his jacket. "Don't you dare. Don't even say a word." Vigo opened his mouth to defy that order, but Quaquin stopped it with a kiss. "Later," he told him, "I am going to kill you." He slipped out of the booth without drawing back the curtain, unwilling to give his agents any more information than they'd already inadvertently gathered, and made a mental note to make sure his eyecam footage was carefully edited if he needed to submit any of it for the files. The rest, he might keep for himself...

"See you then, then," Vigo murmured at his partner's retreating back, with a grin that would have been impossible to wipe off his face.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
